


Ignorance is Bliss

by coplins, YouCantKeepMeDown



Series: Princes, Pirates, and Vampires [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: (that we don't get to see but will have to guess are there), Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angels, Awkward Boners, Blunders, Foreign customs, M/M, Second-Hand Embarrassment, Wing Grooming, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-09
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2019-04-20 17:17:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14265864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coplins/pseuds/coplins, https://archiveofourown.org/users/YouCantKeepMeDown/pseuds/YouCantKeepMeDown
Summary: Dean is trying to keep the political relationship with Caelum stable. Adam's married to their crown prince Michael so they're practically family, right? All Dean wants is to help. That's all, okay? So he lends Michael an un-asked for hand...





	Ignorance is Bliss

**Author's Note:**

> I got so inspired by [YouCantKeepMeDown](http://archiveofourown.org/users/YouCantKeepMeDown)'s [fantasy AU](https://archiveofourown.org/series/927504) that I asked to write another short story in the verse. ^^ So without further ado, prepare to be embarrassed. /Coplins

### A Political Blunder

Dean’s eyes keep being drawn to the offending burrs and thorny twigs poking out of the downy feathers of Michael’s folded wings. The angel had managed to rid himself of the burrs that got stuck on his huge outer wings with relative ease, stretching, flapping, knocking down a small tree in the process. Those wings pack one hell of a punch. Michael’s only reaction to slamming his wing into the tree trunk had been a small, surprised ‘oh?’ like he hadn’t even noticed, and it was an ‘Oops,’ more than anything. Dean wonders if they can feel a damn thing with those feather-flappers on their back. Probably not much. 

“I get your point, Sire. But with the risk of sounding disrespectful, to ignore the intel just because it comes from the village drunk would be stupid in this case.” Dean’s gaze jumps away from Michaels wings and to the speaker, Captain Aleksandr. After the attack on Gabe, he’d sent requests to his most trusted officers to tip him about what soldiers might be the most angel-friendly. He hates to admit to himself that not all guards can be trusted, as had been proven by Gordon. But there it is. So some rearrangements had been done. A couple of soldiers had been called home from the borders to replace others to make sure that any guard responsible for the safety of the royal visitors are either angel-friendly or neutral. The man currently speaking is in charge of that division. Dean hadn’t heard of him before the attack since the guy―a foreigner―had more or less showed up on the Winchester army’s doorstep when the Caelum war began and then remained stationed at one of the most remote outposts that never reported having any significant problems that needed royal attention during the war. However, looking into the guy’s service record he might have been a big part of that. It’s a wonder he hasn’t been knighted. (According to interviews conducted, that might be on him too, since he preferred to give credit to his peers, shying away from promotions.) Either way, he got along famously with the angel guards in the royal retinue and thus earned the rank of Captain of the Honour Guard. “We’ve been trying to keep things under lids to avoid people panicking, but the description the man gave sounded exactly like a leviathan. Our closest outpost lies here. According to all reports, everything is all kittens and sunshine over there, yeah? I’d say, it ain’t right. I smell something fishy, if you get what I’m sayin? Nothing’s _ever_ just kittens and sunshine at a border post. Especially during peace when we’re bored as _fu_ ―” he clears his throat, remembering who he's talking to. ”Very bored.”

“Good point, Alexandr. And this outpost is just by the mountains. I think there’s a cave system in those mountains but those aren’t good for humans or angels due to toxic gas, so we’ve never had to worry about them.” Dean points to the map on the table they're standing around.

“Our esteemed guests probably have maps of the mountains that will show places where humans could safely cross the mountains,” the guard Captain says and looks up at the angel guard present while doing some weird twitch with his shoulders. Dean follows his gaze to see the guard’s feathers rustle when her wings move slightly. Dean looks back at the captain who seems content as if he somehow got his answer. It strikes Dean then, that those weird shoulder-movements Captain Aleksandr does sometimes maybe aren’t some kind of tick, but an imitation of how he’d move his shoulders if he too had wings. Huh. No wonder he gets along so well with the wing-boys. “But since we’re dealing with leviathans they might have used the cave system in case the gas down there isn’t toxic to them. And if they’ve overtaken this outpost they could easily spread both inward in this country, as well as go west and enter Caelum from our side, Sire. With the leviathans ability to mimic humans it’d sour the peace between your nations very quickly, if you get what I’m sayin?”

Yep. How the hell isn’t this guy of a higher rank? Guy thinks of the big picture, and―  
Dean’s once again distracted by the burrs in Michael’s wings when the prince leans over the table to look at the map with a troubled wrinkle between his brows. The Caelum prince was out flying earlier today when he’d spotted a child running in the forest. He’d seen the upcoming ravine while the child hadn’t, and made a steep dive through the tree branches, wings brushing both sides of the ravine downward (consecutively picking up every burr and twig growing there apparently), catching the falling kid and swooping upward just before hitting the bottom. That was some badass flying that gained him a lot of points with the castle staff and commoners living in the surrounding area since news like this travel rather fast. Dean hadn’t seen it, of course. He’d been stuck sitting on his throne listening to petitioners. Anyone ever wonder why there’s no table in front of a throne? It’s because the monarch sitting on it would end up banging their head on the table repeatedly out of sheer boredom. 

Sometimes Dean wishes to be a king was what commoners thought it was. Feasting, wearing fancy clothes, cavorting with maids, hunting with falcons and riding fancy, noble horses in perfectly manicured gardens. Hah! To be fair, if it was, Dean would probably be the one to run off and join a band of pirates. Now _there’s_ an idea. He and Benny could― _Nope_. Don’t go there. He’s hardly going to abandon his kingdom while it’s on the brink of a second war. Now it’s about keeping up regal appearance in front of the people. Which is probably why Michael hasn’t removed the burrs on his innermost wings yet. Captain Aleksandr had approached them with the news of the leviathan rumour soon after Michael got back, and there’s no way for an angel to look regal while grooming. (It’s one of the most comical lessons Dean’s learned about the featherheads since they arrived.) So Michael had snapped his wings shut, stuck his customary broomstick up his ass, chin high, and pretended he isn’t bothered by his collection of debris. Dean knows all about that. He’d heard dad say ‘Could you try to be a little less… _Dean_ , the next time?’ too many times. Royalty is supposed to appear, well… regal.

But it’s getting ridiculous. They’re out of the public eye now. It’s just Dean, Aleksandr, the angel guard named Neda, Michael, and his jackass brother Lucifer who’s currently perching on top of the backrest of a chair like a rooster, cawing his arrogant input just often enough for Dean not to forget that the fucker is there. When you think about it, it isn’t such a wonder Adam ended up screwing the guy. The guy’s practically walking around in a state of perpetual ‘fight me!’ And when you can’t fight them, it leaves only one solution… well. Adam’s got it right.

That’s not the point. The point is that they’re in private so they shouldn’t have to play pretend to be regal and aloof, unbothered by discomforts of mere mortals. “Woah, can we just _stop_. For one moment. I can’t fucking concentrate, okay?” Dean goes around the table towards Michael. “This is bugging the hell out of me. Now, hold still. I'm gonna help you.” Michael looks at him in confusion when he grabs the top of the huge outer wing and lifts it up. It exposes the two pairs of smaller wings. “Hold that up so I can reach,” he says and goes straight for a cluster of burrs stuck in the soft down on the inside of the innermost, smallest pair of wings. He digs his fingers in under the burrs and carefully combs outward, wiggling his fingers a bit to try to get them to come loose without hurting Michael. Michael goes rigid, eyes wide and feathers puffing out.

“Dean, uh, I don’t think―”

“Nah, don’t worry about it. We’re family now. No need to keep up appearance. This is causing you discomfort and it’s making me itch just by looking at it,” Dean says and discards the burrs on the table behind him before going straight for the next cluster. “I bet you’d do the same for me and there are practically no witnesses anyway. Wait. I’m not hurting you, am I?”

“No, you’re not hurting him,” Lucifer says from behind, voice full of held-back glee. The look Michael gives him is so betrayed that Dean has to turn his head to shoot the other prince a glance. Lucifer looks like a little shit, eyes narrowed slyly, a smirk playing on his lips and feathers puffing up and smoothing down over and over, wings slightly bent backwards. 

Dean scowls and looks back at Michael. “Am I hurting you? I can be gentler?”

“I―” Michael’s wings lifts like he’s agitated, though he keeps the wing Dean’s working on with deft fingers unnaturally still. Their eyes meet. Michael’s mouth works soundlessly for a beat, then his wings sag and he swallows. “No. No you’re not.”

“Good. So. Back to the topic at hand. If the Leviathans…” Dean goes on, laying out possible scenarios and what to do about it. Captain Aleksandr is wearing the blankest expression Dean’s ever seen while coming with his own input. Neda’s completely silent. She’s curved her sole pair of wings around herself to cover her face. They look a lot different than the princes’ three pairs and reminds of the knife-shaped wings of a high-speed tern, black, with red tips and a startling yellow on the inside close to the body, complimenting her dark skin. But you’re not supposed to compare angelwings to those of birds aloud. Yeah, no. That’s a blunder Dean’s not going to repeat. He wonders if she’s hiding because humans aren’t supposed to groom angels or some shit like that, and she’s respectful enough not to witness it? Dean hadn’t read anything about it when he tried to make sense of Caelum customs. But then again, their library is tragically understocked.

Michael’s voice comes out rough when he makes his own input. His cheeks are red and he’s sweating. Dean wonders if he’s catching a cold. He’d always figured angels weren’t sensitive to stuff like that because of the flying, but what the hell does he know? Maybe he’s just overheated? Dean’s got all three fireplaces burning merrily. He always gets a bit cold the days after he’s had a roll in the hay with Benny. Even after eating the awesome food Benny brought him, he had to recover from the blood loss before he was back to top-notch.

This wing-grooming thing isn’t half bad. In fact, Dean’s always found it easier to think when he’s doing something with his hands. Michael’s feathers are amazingly soft. Not those on his big wings that Dean had lifted earlier. Those were more like metal to the touch - if metal had a lovechild with silk, that is. But these inner feathers of the smallest wings are softer than a kitten’s fur and feel warm by the base. Honestly, Michael’s wings are downright _gorgeous_. A dark midnight blue that within the shaded parts seem to swallow up light to create an illusion of depth like the night sky, while the gold speckles on them instead reflect the light like little stars. The longer Dean had worked on getting the wing clean, the higher Michael has raised his other wings. Occasionally the wings tremble or feathers puff up to smooth down again. Dean’s almost finished with one wing, running his hand along the wrist of the wing, purring on the inside because it feels frigging good. “Damn, those are some kick-ass muscles you’ve got there,” he mutters.

“Comes with flying,” Michael chokes out, He isn’t looking so well.

“Yeah, I get that. Hey, are you okay? You look a little overheated. We can dose the fires if you want. I can put on warmer clothes.”

“Yeah, Michael. Are you feeling a bit _hot_?” Lucifer teases and sniggers.

Michael sends his brother a stern glare before answering. “No, thank you. I’m fine.”

“Alright. This side’s done.” Dean takes a step to the side to do the other one.

Michael pulls his wing away. “I really don’t think that’s necessary.”

Dean scoffs. “Really?” He darts his hand out to quickly yank a little twig out of Michael’s wing―making Michael flinch―and holds it up in front of the prince. “Thorns, Michael.”

“Yeah, Michael. _Thorns_. Let your brother-in-law take care of you. We’re family, after all?” Lucifer says with the vicious kind of glee reserved for brotherly teasing. “He seems good with his hands.”

“Damn straight, I am,” Dean agrees with a suspicious look at Lucifer.

“Isn’t he making this counsel a lot more _pleasurable_ for you, Michael?” Lucifer teases, keeping eye contact with Michael. There’s something wrong about how funny Lucifer seems to think this is. “And it helps the good king concentrate _so_ much better. Why would you deny him that? He’s nice. Isn’t it _nice_ , Michael?” Yep. Definitely wrong. With how often he repeats his brother’s name, he’s obviously being mocking. Maybe he doesn’t think a mere human knows how to do this? Well, fuck him.

If looks could kill, Lucifer would be a dead bird. Michael’s eyes are nearly black, his face red, and his wings extend outward in an agitated manner. Suddenly, Dean’s pushed back against the table. Michael steps in close, snapping all his wings but the last inner wing shut tight and holds the remaining wing towards Dean. He’s way too close. Like, ‘ _Woah there, buddy. Back up_.’ But then Michael turns his head towards Dean with a friendly smile, close enough to kiss. (A thought Dean certainly didn’t have, thank you very much.) “I’m sorry. You’re right. Please, go ahead.” Michael then takes a burr from the table and places on the map. “So if we presume that the Leviathans have managed to get a secret stronghold here…” he says and proceeds to lay out a scenario using the burrs and twigs while appearing to be completely oblivious to how badly he’s overstepping boundaries by nearly being chest to chest with Dean.

Hell, the fucker smells good.

Fuck, this is awkward.

Doesn’t he get how indecent this is?

Shit, but Dean _really_ doesn’t need to have bird-related boner thoughts about Adam’s husband.

But what’s he gonna do?

Call Michael out on it?

It’d embarrass the hell out of the crown prince and they do _not_ need anymore strain between their two nations than they already have.

Besides, Michael would probably take offense if he understood that Dean found this sexy as hell.

Yeah, no. Better to just play along and pretend that everything is as it should be.

Dean reaches out and starts removing the last twigs and burrs with gentle fingers, smoothing feathers into place (enjoying the softness and warmth), deftly massaging the wing-wrist while adding his two cents to the discussion…

* * *

“Captain!”

Sasha turns around to see the two Caelum princes coming towards him. He snaps to attention. “Yes, Your Highness?”

The crown prince comes to stand in front of him, his younger brother sauntering after him and stopping a step behind. “Your name is Aleksandr Chaadayev, and your men call you Sasha, is that correct?”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“So, Sasha, about what you saw…”

“I saw nothing, Your Highness. I certainly didn’t see my king make a well-intentioned, ignorant blunder. I didn’t see him spend a whole counsel cluelessly touching the erogenous zones of another country's royalty. It would have been very awkward for everyone involved, but since it didn’t happen…”

Crown prince Michael’s wings sag a little in relief while the rest of him remain poised. “Very good. Then we understand each other, Captain. As you were.”

Sasha bows then turns to walk away. When he throws a quick glance over his shoulder Michael’s pulling his younger brother into a chamber, lips interlocked. Another thing that Sasha, naturally, ‘doesn’t see’.

He doesn’t walk far before he hears “Captain Aleksandr!” behind him.

He turns to face the king and bows his head respectfully. “My Liege.”

King Dean comes to stand before him. “Hey, about what you saw…”

“I saw nothing, Your Majesty. I definitely didn’t see the crown prince of Caelum make unwitting advances towards the Monarch of another country, one that happens to be his brother-in-law to boot. It would have been very awkward for everyone involved, but since it didn’t happen…” He lets his sentence linger to make his point.

King Dean scrutinizes him for a beat then looks like he’s trying not to sag with relief. “Good. Great. Let’s keep it that way, okay?”

“Of course, My Liege.”

“Alright. Carry on.”

Sasha bows and turns to walk towards his quarters again. He’s been relieved from his shift and has a couple of hours to catch up on sleep. He wonders why he always ends up here. All he wants is to fight on the frontline, yet for some reason he’s always singled out to work closely to royalty. It’s happened in every country he’s ever served in. He fears that one day, somebody’s going to figure out how old he really is, and how closely he’s worked with the royal families he’s served. That day he’ll be in trouble. That’s why he never sees or hears anything. He’s a master of lies and deception purely as a self-defense. If they could just leave him be and let him serve with sword―(knife, bow, poison, you name it)―in hand to quench the predatory hunger in him, he’ll stay to his dying day if he has one. He’s starting to feel his age. He wouldn’t mind finding a forever home instead of chasing wars like a crow wanting to feast on a battlefield.

For now, he’ll be content to catch a few hours of shut-eye. But the first thing he’s going to do when he gets to his small, private quarters, is bury his head into his pillow and have a laughing fit from the amusement over the blissfully ignorant behaviour he just ‘didn’t’ witness…

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> Don't forget to read Adam's reaction to finding out what Dean did [HERE](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14266470). :D


End file.
